


Scars

by Profitina



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alcohol, Bar Room Brawl, Caregiving, F/M, abusive childhood, drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:13:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23728873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Profitina/pseuds/Profitina
Summary: Michael gets in a bar fight and Maria takes care of him. Takes place around 2x01/2x02 just before he moves the airstream to the Pony. Angst fluff.
Relationships: Maria DeLuca/Michael Guerin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	Scars

Michael had had a bad night and gotten into a bar fight at the Wild Pony. Again. In the melee he broke several glasses with his bare hands and started bleeding all over the floor just before closing time. If he had been less drunk, he would have been worried about his extraterrestrial DNA all over the floor in a public space. But since he was completely shit faced, he reveled in the pain. 

“Oh my god! Michael we need to clean you up.” Maria locks the door to the Wild Pony early since it is just the two of them left and approaches Michael like he is some sort of wild animal. “It’s okay. Just let me look at it.” He tentatively holds his bleeding hands out to her and Maria winces. They are both cut up from glass. “I don’t think they need stitches but follow me.”

Michael dutifully follows Maria to her apartment upstairs and then into her bathroom across the way. “First we need to rinse them.” Maria speaks calmly and turns on the water faucet. Michael steps up behind her, pressing his chest against her back. He wraps his arms around her waist and nuzzles into her hair. Maria freezes for a second and looks up at their reflection in the mirror. Michael is a little taller than she is but so much broader and his eyes are currently as wild as his curls. For the first time, she wonders if she should be afraid of his rage but trusts that she isn’t for a reason. Maria lifts her hands and his hands tighten and she feels his lips in her hair. Michael is muttering something to himself but she can’t make it out.

“Michael?” He makes a snuffle sound into her neck and then he kisses it. Maria’s stomach clenches and she feels a rush of desire. Nothing will happen between them tonight. Michael is drunk and clearly on edge. But that doesn’t stop Maria from thinking about it. She gently coaxes him to release his grip and stick his hands under the sink. She pumps out some apple scented hand soap and gently runs her palms over his knuckles to clean them. Michael keeps his face buried in her neck. His lips are still moving against her neck and she can feel his growing erection against her back. She ignores it and keeps working, switching to his already injured hand to get rid of the dry crusted blood to access the damage. The hand looks different, as if he underwent plastic surgery or something, but he will not answer any of her questions when she asks. 

When she is done cleaning the blood from his hands, she pats them dry with a purple hand towel. Michael starts to wrap his arms around her again but she raises her arms to stop him. Michael finally lifts his head blearily to give her a questioning look. There’s anger under the surface, but sadness and rejection dominate his expression. “Let me take care of your hands.” 

Michael drops them and steps back enough that she can turn around, but not without brushing against him. When she does, she feels his erection and belt buckle against her stomach. Michael looks anything but apologetic as he blinks down at her. There’s a wall up right now, one she’s seen before but usually stayed away from. He’s closely guarding emotions he usually tries to contain. She can see that clearly in this moment. 

His fingers brush up her arms, a barely there whisper of touch. They travel up over her shoulders, sweeping her hair back to cup her cheeks. His hands are trembling, she can feel the vibrations against her skin. “You’re so perfect.” Michael whispers. “I’m not good enough.”

“Of course you are.” Maria argues and he shakes his head no. With a heavy sigh, he moves over to her closed toilet and sits down with a thunk. Resting his elbow on his knee, He props the other one towards her on the counter to give her access to his broken knuckles. Maria opens up the cabinet over the toilet and stands up on her tiptoes to reach the handle of the first aid kit. Pulling it down, she sets it next to her tube of toothpaste and hair brush. Flipping the kit open, she finds the antiseptic wipes and tears them open. Taking his left hand in hers, she gingerly dabs at his knuckles.

“You don’t have to be gentle. I can handle a lot of pain.” 

Maria glances up to see him watching her closely. “That doesn’t mean you should have to. He huffs at her and she wipes across his knuckle again. Then she blows on the cuts. 

“What are you doing?” Michael asks curiously. No one else has ever patched him up before. 

“Taking away the sting.” She answers him like it is obvious, but he just stares at her confused. “Didn’t anyone ever do this for you as a kid when you got hurt? One of your foster families?”

Michael shakes his head. “I took care of that stuff on my own.”

“Even when you were really little?” Maria doesn’t know what she would have done without her mother and feels for him. Michael shakes his head no again. He doesn’t really want to talk about it. Maria refocuses onto his other hand and repeats the process of cleaning his cuts with the antiseptic. Both of his hands have little scars around the knuckles from breaking things and fighting. She goes to step back but he takes her hand in his and places it against his cheek.

“Why are you so good to me, DeLuca? I’m a bad person.”

“Sure you are. You just make mistakes sometimes.” 

“Come the fuck on. I’m going to ruin you.” Michael insists with a growl. “ Look at the chaos I drag you into. I don’t have any control over this. Definitely not over myself right now. You’re going to get tired of my shit. I know I do.”

He was voicing a lot of Maria’s fears and somehow it made things better. What she should want did not match what she did. And what she should do did not match what she did. “You keep saying things like that but I don’t get the logic. Everyone makes bad decisions when they’re hurting, Michael. You can’t define yourself only by the bad decisions you make.”

Michael scoffs and Maria finishes cleaning his wounds. He doesn’t even flinch when she wipes neosporin across the cuts then wraps them with gauze. Michael sighs. “People have a lot of preconceptions about me, and most of them are true. I know that. But just because I do bad things doesn’t mean I like that that is the way it is.”

Maria wants to ask what that means but she knows he will answer her because he is drunk and she isn’t sure she is ready to know. “I’m going to get you some aspirin and water then put you to bed. But no funny business.” Maria pulls herself up by the counter.

“I’ll get it” Michael goes to get up but sways and drops back down. 

“Oh, Guerin.” Maria shakes her head sadly. She fills up a glass of water and retrieves two aspirin from the cabinet. 

He takes the water and aspirin from her and dutifully swallows it. “I really hope I remember this tomorrow.”

“Me too. Now let’s get you to bed.”


End file.
